Boys, My Boys
by Jaffee Leeds
Summary: A series of oneshots about the Feanorian Princes from Neredanel's POV. I always up date quickly. Please Read & Review!
1. Boys, My boys

My boys, how I love my boys.

I have seven in all, three redheads, one blond and two three black haired beauties. All of them are good looking, at least to this mother's eyes. I remember their births vividly and each one is different, a special elf in his own right.

Each one with talents and faults that he struggles to over come, and yet I find that I love them for their little idiosyncrasies. Maglor bit his nails something awful, and Amras was the one with the short temper. I remember the number of times we would have to pull him off some poor elfling because he was beating them up about something.

I remember the first time someone pointed out to Celegorm that he was unusually good looking and how he answered that he already knew it! His grandfather immediately put him on a crash course for humility. His consist companion would always be Curufin, following where ever the other lead. My silly boys, of all my children they made the oddest pair, Celegorm tall and blond his perfect features raised in pride and Curufin his jet hair pulled away from his face as always, his was rather a plain face but he was probably more proud of his family name then Celegorm. And so like his father! Such a child to be like their father I never saw.

Maedhros, my copper top boy, too tall for almost everything! He never really had a confident _in _the family. No, his friend and brother was Fingon of Fingolfin's house. They were like two peas in a pod and Fingon practically lived with us during their growing up years. They would ran screaming through the house make believing they were Tulkas, and his brother, fighting with the wooden swords and shields Feanor made them. I sometimes wonder if Eru didn't make a mistake in giving Fingon to Fingolfin's house for a son, perhaps he should have been ours?

And then there was Amrod and Caranthir, the two quiet ones. They kept to themselves and spent huge amounts of time alone. Amrod and his painting and tanning and Caranthir and his forging, I never really knew what they were doing but as long as they were together they were fine. Unlike Curufin and Celegorm them never returned home was bloody noses, or broken arms. Some people tend to think that the twins were very close and perhaps that could be said as truth for their later years, but as children it was always Caranthir and Amrod, and Amras and Maglor; Maedhros and Fingon and Celegorm and Curufin.

I suppose in the end I consider Fingon as one of my own because he was with us so often. I know my husband and Fingolfin would hardly thank me for saying that, but that's how it was. All the years I watched them develop into the men they would become, seeing their joys and tears, their frustrations and happiness. And I loved everyone of them, even Fingon as my own.

There are many stories folks don't remember that I could tell about them that few remember now they are gone from Valinor and their fates hidden from us. But as I write this it brings them near to me and I feel that I can touch them and see them through recounting their lives with me.

When they were just boys, my boys.

_Nerdanel, Wife of Fëanor_

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**Authorial Note: **I know none of you will believe this, but I got this journal in the mail without a return address. I opened it and found this big velvet volume and found it was written in totally incomprehensible Elvish. I sent it off to my good friend, and mentor Tolkien and he translated it for me. He sent it back with a note saying that since it was sent to me in the first place I was allowed to publish it; and if people liked it I was allowed to take the credit because I had to reword everything for you to understand.

I cried my way through most of it though and I hope you do too,…..that came out wrong. What I mean is I hope you like this because it's very moving! There that's better, just let me know if you think I should go on with it. Cheers!

The Mysterious


	2. I suppose I rememeber the twins

**Annamariah: **Ah, one review at least and by someone I can trust! Thank you for your review dear one.

Chapter 2 **….I remember the Twins most**

I suppose that I remember the birth of the twins better then any of the others because they were my last babies. I would say Maedhros was the most painful birth and Curufin's the quickest. But the twins birth stands apart for the simple fact that their were two of them.

I was in labor for exactly two days, two hours, two minutes and three seconds. Feanor always said that the last three second discrepancy was the reason they were so different from each other. Two identical boys wrapped in linen were set in my arms and I remember counting their fingers and toes with Feanor, to make sure they were all there. He marveled over them, two little elflings, exactly alike and so small!

My husband could hold one completely in each of his long fingered hands. Of all my boys they were the sleepiest babies! All night they would sleep, curled up together, holding on to the other peacefully. They were a blessing though as it allowed Feanor and I the liberty of working in the forge unhampered.

When they were a week old they were presented to the boys and claimed by two of their older brothers. Caranthir marched right up to me and lifted Amrod's little self up and said "I think that you and I are going to be just right for each other, Amrod"

Caranthir was rewarded by a happy smile form his newly claimed brother. Maglor came forward next and looked down at Amras's grumpy face. He put out a finger and gently touched his soft cheek and said " I suppose that you and I are meant for each other little stranger." At this Amras began to cry much to Maglor's discomfort, but I knew that it would pass. Maglor would win him over with his patience.

Amras was a fussy unhappy baby. He was never content to be held and never content to be left alone. The first few months with him were trying for everyone in the household.. We tried everything, but he would wail out his baby complaints around the clock. He would only quiet when I cuddled with him; and when I fed him he would watch me with his large grey eyes

I worried about him form the start, something was not right and vague stirrings of dread filled my heart. Feanor brushed my fears aside with a laugh saying that no harm could touch him while we lived in Valinor. Though I said nothing, I could never truly shake those fears from my heart even as I watched them grow into strong young men.

Neither of the twins had any hair for the first year of their lives. The colorless peach fuzz covered their little heads right up till their first Begetting Day. I was mildly worried as this would be the first time they would be presented to the Valar, and the general public.

Even my other sons were afraid that the people would find some reason to make fun of their new siblings. I wanted to tell them that as long as their father wore the Silmarils on his head on one would notice the twins had nothing on theirs.

And sadly enough it was true, after the initial presentation the attention was focused on my husbands jewels. The only two who seemed interested in the twins were two of the Valier. Nessa and Nienna came forward and each bestowed a kiss on their little bald heads.

Nessa granted Amrod great strength and swiftness as a hunter, and laughingly kissed him again. He gurgled and gave her a big sloppy open mouthed baby kiss on her youthful cheek. I was glad for him, surly he would he heralded for his skill one day. But my eyes sought Nienna and Amras…

She had kissed my boy and stroked his chubby hand tenderly. He touched her cheek with his fat finger and I saw that he reached to brush away a tear. He looked at the silver drop on his finger and smiled for the first time, his baby teeth gleaming and his ruby lips spread in the wide grin he would come to be known for.

As I have said before each was as different as night and day.

Amras, after your grumpy and unhappy first year, you blossomed into a happy-go-lucky little elfling. Maglor took you under his wing and I watched you unfold and become out going and carefree. Soon you were the one dragging Maglor everywhere, out hunting or camping; in the forge or in the music room you trailed. Despite your identical looks everyone always knew which of you was Amrod and which was Amras.

You always had your feet flat on the ground unlike Maglor, you had no time to waste in day dreaming. No, you would go out and do the things that Maglor dreamt about.

Now Amrod on the other hand was very different.

Amrod was always the quiet one, content to follow where your brother's lead. I remember watching you play by yourself so happily that I hated to disturb you. And you tended to dislike having any of the other boys play with you. Hiding in the corners with your little model men you would have them hunt and forge and wonder about the coming of men. I am still curious as to why this captured your thoughts, but it did.

And slowly I realized that it was the gentle influence of your older brother, Caranthir. I watched as you allowed him to play with you and expanded your little world till the nursery was too little to hold your adventures. The day you left the nursery for good I cried because I knew none would come after you to fill it with laughter.

Oh my twins! My sweet little boys! I only had you till your tenth year, and I was forced to leave you! Was I wrong to leave you so?

Yes, I was wrong I can see that now, as I watch you grow more and more under the influence of your father. But there is nothing I can do now to bring you back. My sweet red haired twins.

Nerdanel, Wife of Feanor

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**Author's Note: **After reading this over I wrote to Tolkien again and discovered that Amras died at the burning of the ships. He was trying to return either for the other's or so he could return to Valinor. Which one it was I have not discovered yet, but someday hope to record.

Jaffee Leeds


	3. My Dark One

**Mirfein: **My author's notes are meant to interest, and fill in the gaps left by the journal entries. Tolkien intended on killing Amras off at the burning of the ships, however his son could not find a way to work it in and so left it out all together. Stupid boy! Of course J.R had already left for Valinor by that time and so could do nothing about it.

**Annamariah: **I know what you mean, everyone assumes that they were exactly alike in character when they as unlike as night and day. Tolkien said I should really highlight this in my recordings. Glad you like reality.

Whenever I think on my sons I can remember so much about each one. Their special likes and dislikes, their favorite food and favorite place; their best friends. And yet….and yet there is among my boys one whose heart I never fully understood. My mysterious dark son.

My Caranthir….

From the moment of his conception I knew him not; I could not touch him with my mind and feel his fea as I had with all the other's. A separate body unto himself from the beginning, I did not even know you were a son until your birth. You burst into the world pink and rosy, unlike all my other babies. You had a ruddy glow to your cheeks and were crowned with a mop of black curls.

You were a silent baby, you never cried, not once! From the beginning you would keep utterly to yourself and would merely wait for all your needs to be met. While Maglor had kept up an almost continual mental communication with me as a baby, you did not. I know you were never close to Feanor either; it was as if you wished to distance yourself from our family.

What thoughts churned in your mind behind your black eyes Caranthir? What feelings did you always hold away from me? What fear kept you from confiding in our family?

And why did men, Edain draw you so much?

Unless you turn from your father's course I may never know. I feel my spirit goes with you everyday and it dwells more on you, my silent one. For I may hope for the other's return based upon their personalities, but I do not know you. Do you know that I pray to Eru for you and your brother's safe return?

Caranthir a shadow of what you were as a baby.

A little boy playing with his toys, or riding across the glades and plains of Valinor. The only time I really saw you open up was when you took Amrod under your wing. You taught him so much, all you ways of solitude and quiet. You encouraged his interest in the coming of men.

"_And when men come shall we go together and welcome them Caranthir?" Amrod asked hopefully._

"_Yes, I hope they will come soon, I long to meet the second born." you answered._

I remember this so well, because for a moment I saw your heart's desire. Your black eyes shone, and your cheeks flushed pink as only they could.

Other times you worked in the forge with your father and Curufin, bending and shaping the glowing metal into some precious object. You showed such skill that your father praised your work continually. Did this approval mean anything to you? You never gave any sign….

….no, you did. Anything that your father praised you kept carefully in your room. I found them after you had left, all lined up on a shelf. As I touch each one I wonder what was going through your mind as you shaped them.

You….of all my boys, were the only one to look back before you left me. I searched your black eyes, begging you to stay, and for a moment you lingered, hesitated. Then as you turned away you touched my mind with yours.

"_Farewell Mother."_

And that is my most precious gift of all.

_Nerdanel, Wife of Fëanor._

**_Author's Note: _**Caranthir went on to become the friend of men in middle earth _"looking with favor upon them." _As we know Caranthir never returned to Valinor and was slain in the fall of Doriath.


	4. My Sweet Little Minstrel

**This chapter is dedicated to the memory of Jessica Lunsford who was kidnapped and murdered. We remember her for the time her bright smile helped light the world around us. Please take a moment to think of this sweet little girl and say a pray in memory of her.**

_**Jaffee**_

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Today I went in search of a piece of music that I wanted, and so I found myself in your room Maglor. I opened the windows and let the sunshine sweep into the room allowing the light to illuminate the heaps and piles of paper scattered everywhere.

On your desk a pen is resting on a half finished song and beside it the inkpot is open as if ready for the eager writer to finish the piece. But decorating everything the silvery dust had settled and anyone could see that you have been gone for many hundreds of years.

I sit down and look at the rumpled bed and pillows where you slept and see your slippers laying together in the corner, you always were such a messy little boy. And I think of you.

Besides Celegorm none of my boys were very talkative, but for the huge expectation of my second son, of you Maglor. My sweet tempered minstrel, my little fussy bard.

You entered this world with the most outraged scream that I am sure everyone in Valinor heard. Finwe said he was sure that you would be singer someday, but you seemed determined not to fulfill this destiny. For from your birth you were silent to everyone, but me. You were silent until you reached your fifth Begetting Day, while this worried all the family I was never in doubt of your ability to communicate all your thoughts.

"_Mtar! Mtar! Oh look at the pretty sky! And the birds! Pigeons! Pigeons! Pigeons!"_

Your voice is so familiar that even now I feel as though I can hear you exclaiming over the grass of the color of a dragonfly's wings.

_Dragonflies………_

I still remember the day that Fingon told you that little brothers came from kissing frogs, and little sisters came from kissing pretty dragonflies. Since you were so fond of Artanis and Aredhel you were determined to have a little sister yourself. Maglor, you were then three, spent four or five days going after the pretty insects.

I can close my eyes and see the disappointment on your face when you had kissed the dragonflies only to have them spread their wings and fly away instead of transforming into the hoped for sister. Maglor my dear, you were very fond of your cousins Aredhel and Artanis and they spoiled you rotten!

And as I remember it they were the first to coax you to sing. Together they had spent the day singing a song about Tulkas and trying to have you join them, but you wouldn't. You simply refused to open your mouth. Finally they gave up and began to head toward their own homes, and this disappointed you so that before their gold and ebony braids disappeared you opened your mouth and sang a song of your own baby-making!

Ah, my Maglor, little bard your first song was of the beauty of darkness and light and how when they join they are the loveliness of twilight. So sweetly did you sing that all nature seemed to stand still and listen with bated breath.

This spread wide the flood gates and you began to write and sing all day long, now all the world could share in your beautiful thoughts. In a way I was sorry that my baby's thoughts were not mine alone anymore. I suppose it was selfish to think so, but I did. I shouldn't have worried though because you always spoke of your heart to me, through your mind to mine.

You delighted your father with your music, it was one of the few things that could pull him from the forge. Feanor was so proud of you, Maglor, and whenever he heard you praised he always bragged about how hard his son had worked. That was always important to your Atar, to be good at anything, to be talented in some area.

He never noticed the other things that you excelled in as well. He didn't see your gift of a slow temper and diplomatic heart, and that the Silmarils meant nothing to you.

But I did, and I love you for them.

It is this that makes me hope for your return above all the others. My heart can., at least rest with the thought that you with the thought that you will be a calming influence on your father and brothers.

And someday I know you will have your own little ones, perhaps even have that girl you always wanted so badly. I will watch for you my sweet minstrel and mayhap you will bring your brothers home with you.

_Nerdanel, Wife of Feanor_

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**Author's Note: ** Unfortunately Maglor never returned to Valinor, nor did any of his brothers. While it is known that he raised the sons of Elwing for a time, they did leave him when they reached adulthood. However he is always remembered with love for the compassion that he showed on the children, and they did truly love him in return.

After the death of his older brother Maglor cast the last Silmaril into the depth of the sea, and there our knowledge of his fate ends. Although my dear friend Tolkien assures me that Maglor married, it is not know who this elleth was or if they had any children, but it is seemed that they did not.

_The Mysterious _

_Jaffee Leeds_


	5. Burnished Gold

Today I found a little sachet that smelled of dried lavender leaves and opening it out poured a soft mound of golden curls. Soft as down and gleaming like the sun they piled in my lap and caught the light in every shade of yellow and burnished gold.

I had forgotten the beauty of your hair Celegorm, the way it felt to touch, the cool strands slipping through my fingers at the times when you would et me hold you. You never liked to be touched and held. No, you were independent and fussy as a baby and grew into an independent and stern elf.

You came into the world with your huge blue eyes open to greet us, and as you were laid in my arms I saw your glorious hair. It curled around your tiny face in blond rings, the color fascinated me, I had seen it before of course, but never in my family. Unlike the fiery glow of Maedhros's red and the somber night of Maglor's black, yours was yellow as the changing light of the trees. So when you reached your majority, your coronet was not the gleaming pure mithril of your brothers, but a reddish color, made by my father, of burnished gold.

You never seemed to need me or your father, unlike the others you never sought the caresses and attention of us. But then you never complained of that, you were content, I think, to stay by yourself or to send your days with Oromë. I remember the day you came home carrying the big brown puppy that Oromë had given you.

"What is that?" Maglor had asked as he backed away. You tossed your beautiful hair and said, "He's my dog, Oromë gave him to me and he'll always stick by me because I love him!"

That night your father was frantic because he couldn't find you. After searching for an hour we discovered you under your bed curled up with Huan in your arms. Feanor patted Huan's head and in his gentle way smoothed away the strands of hair that had fallen into your eyes.

"This animal will be faithful, it is in his blood. It was good of Oromë to give such a gift to our son."

"He already loves him, perhaps you could make a collar fit for this great dog." I said, but your father pulled away saying, "I cannot, I have just discovered a way to construct a marvelous thing, perhaps something unlike any jewel in the thought of the Valar. I haven't the time to make a collar, maybe later."

Then he left and worked all night in the forge, he never knew that you had heard him, but I knew you had. And yet it didn't seem to bother you for you went on to master your father's language as one other. A great speaker and well loved, you where often called on to teach the children. I know you never wanted to admit it, but you loved the little ones.

Aredhel was your special pet and she was the only one you would allow to braid your long yellow hair. She would sit and prattle and you would listen patiently longsuffering under her tiny clumsy hands as she played. I never quite understood why you would allow her to play with Huan and your precious hunting things but you did. Perhaps it was her youthful years that made you more ready to bear her company, for the young do not judge. You even allowed her to cut your hair and hers to make a braid of the two colors. She made two I remember, and you wore them ever after.

As I finger the soft curls in my lap I recall the time I found you both asleep in the long grass by the pond. You had been swimming and had a picnic and there you both slept. She curled right by you and laid her black head on your shoulder in her sleep. You had your arm around her tiny shoulders and an expression of sweetness that I rarely saw. The way your hair mingled in the changing light of the two trees, the raven locks of Aredhel and your golden tresses, it was almost like Maglor's song, night and day meeting and blending in twilight.

And she adored you in her little girlish way, she had two older brother's and yet to you she clan to the most. You taught her all you knew of the animals and hunting and she was a good pupil. If not for the feud between the families you may have always been such friends, but Celegorm you allowed the argument of your father to spoil the love between you and Aredhel. You didn't see her pain, but I did, she loved you as no other and yet because your father did, you turned your back on her.

And it was then that I was afraid for you, I saw something in your that frightened me, yes even me, Nerdanel. I saw cruelty. So I knew when the final madness seized your father that you would follow, and it, this cursed quest fro revenge would bring out all that was bitter and loathsome in you. No! Stay that thought! I never thought that you heart could have been evil of itself; but something, ….something you lacked as a youth had given rise to such a longing for your father's approval that you would do anything for him.

And so when the time came you used all the power and gift of speech and pulled the hearts of the elves away from the Valar and they went. Even Aredhel went with her father and brother's, but she went more for you then anyone else. And she still wore the braided bracelet, she went charmed by your words.

In that moment when you first spoke I sought and held your eyes moment and pleaded with you to stop. But you did not, and for the first time I felt my mental connection with you falter.

On the day you left Valinor it snapped.

_Nerdanel, Wife of Feanor_

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**Author's Note: ** Celegorm went on to become the most brutal and hated son of the Feanorian brother's. He was always known for his desire for power and for his failed love of Luthien. Tolkien tells me that when he heard of Aredhel's death at the hands of her husband he vowed than that he would never love anyone more then his cousin. However when he first saw Luthien in the wood he thought for a moment that it was Aredhel come back, and so he felt he could never let Luthien go. Unfortunately after her escape some of Feanor's madness came over him and he sought after the Silmarils ruthlessly.

He died at the hands of Dior, Luthien's only son, Dior was also called the fair, perhaps after the Feanorian son, but more likely because he was also very beautiful. When the bodies were found Celegorm had clasped Dior to his heart in a seeming last plea for forgiveness, but Celegorm's servants then left the sons of Dior to die in the forest. Thus is the bitter end of Celegorm and even now he paces the halls of Mandos in pain, wailing the loss of the boys and his loved ones.


	6. Tempered Flame

**Tinorial Peredhil**It is painful thing to realize that your child or anyone who is close to you can be truly cruel. I am glad you like it and yes, I will keep it up.**  
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**Annamariah**Yes, at least in the end he regretted it, but what is that when he lived his life in cruelty? Not much, I'm afraid. Poor old Huan he really had to make a hard decision there, but it was for the best. He did return to him in the end however.**  
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**Elfique**I love, as you put it, "The Man Himself" he is a good friend and mentor. He's helping me in all my writing too, so that' nice. He say that he is glad that a few people out there exactly care about the canon enough to bother with it. Keep reading!**  
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Curufin, I cannot think of you without the shadow of your father standing so close that you are almost parallel. So like your father…

I most be the only mother to give birth in half an hour and six minutes, I hardly had time to settle in bed and feel any pain and there you were! But you were born in silence and your tiny body was pale and almost lifeless.

I can still see your father, tears running down his face, lifting your grey body and breathing into your tiny lungs. Slowly and gently he worked coaxing life into your little form until your cheeks turned a delicate pink and rosy. The breath your father gave you seemed to awaken a will to live and soon you were breathing on your own.

And it was only right that ever after you followed your father's footsteps. I had given you birth, but your father had given you life and so you were like him in everyway. As I gaze at a portrait of you I see his features in you, the same high cheek bones and keen glance. The exact same black eyes and long fingered hands made for the work of the forge.

I remember seeing your little boy-self running into the forge your glossy braids flying in your eagerness to be with your Atar. The first thing you made was a lovely glowing stone of deep violet light, I hold it now and it warms my hands. It was marvelous as your first work. The same skill that came to your father's attention and almost as soon as your could reach the bellows and anvil he brought you into the forge everyday, and you loved it!

You were such a tender baby, so sweet and mild in temper, cuddly and shy. When you were brought before the Valar, you bashfully hid you face in your Atar's shoulder. Aule loved you right away and blessed you with skill and temperance. Your father disliked the idea that your abilities were to be tempered, but he said nothing for the bitterness and evil of Melkor had not yet tainted his heart.

I think Aule, and all of the Valar saw in you the potential to be as fierce and fiery as your father and wished you to be more prepared to handle the flame that burned within you. This was your greater strength, your temperance was your power, you were mighty yet gentle, you were strong yet not cruel, you were good. It was made in your nature to be good.

But you thrived on the blasting heat, and the glowing metals that you worked with; and I almost never saw either of you while the Silmarils wee being made. Only the searing flames and smoke that came from the forge was a sign that you continued to work days and nights. Many don't realize how much of your life's power was used in the making of the jewels, it was not Feanor alone, but you as well.

That fateful day you both emerged smudged and sweaty, but so proud of yourselves! In your father's hands the first two jewels and you held the third. You smiled up at me, and I saw that in the making of the Silmarils that some of the light of your brilliant smile had come to be blended in the in the curving orbs of the Silmarils. While everyone marveled over the light of the Silmarils I marveled over the beauty of you that had been captured in their making.

Every rainbow bit that shuddered and moved with light reflected the tender light that moved in your own life and vitality. The blue of your eyes the ebony of your hair the white of your skin and the fire of your spirit. This is always said of your father, but I see the little things in it that you possessed that your father did not have in all his glorious character.

You had a measure of kindness and gentleness that tempered that of your fiery spirit. You loved and longed for the Silmarils, but you were not consumed by them as your father was. You loved the feel of a blade in your hand, but it did not breed ad lust for revenge in your blood. I remember the first time that you accidentally drew blood from on of your brother's in practice you were sick at the sight.

Poor Celegorm, he never fully understood by you always followed him after that but you did it to make plain your sorrow at having caused him pain, however brief. I saw the admiration for Celegorm's speaking ability burn in your eyes, and yet you aid nothing. The one thing that you did not have from you father, the inspired speech. You would listen to your father and Celegorm for hours and every word they said was truth to you.

Did that make it so easy for you to take that horrible Oath? If I had only…if only

No, I must say that I did everything I could do, For you I hold no regrets, I held nothing back, sometimes I felt as though you drew life from me as none of the other's did. And yet you have also left Valinor. You went to Middle Earth because you loved your father and brothers more then anything else.

Cold is your forge, and put aside your hammer. As I write this I think of you and your father. In every corner of the forge I see your slender frame, your glossy head bent over some wondrous thing, every gem or jewel you ever made is a reminder of your smile. Smile, my Curufin, and be all that your father was and more, be compassionate, be forgiving, be…be _my son_.

_Nerdanel, Wife of Feanor_

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**Author's Note : **Curufin was the only son of Feanor of which it is known that he had a child. Who was his wife? No one knows, perhaps some elleth that he married in Middle Earth or in Valinor, however the likelihood of his marrying after he reached Middle Earth is greater. The child of this union is Celebrimbor the maker of the three elvish rings of power.

His son went on to make the second most powerful rings in all of Middle Earth, and died at the hand of Sauron when he would not disclose the location of Vilya the ring of the Air and mightiest of the three. At the beginning the ring Vilya was in the possession of Gil-Galad the high elven king and would pass to Elrond after Gil-Galad's death, also at the hand of Sauron.

Curufin was know to smile at odd times and this would cause you to think that he said very little and that his smile was more beautiful or rarer to see then any of the others. He was almost murdered by Beren when he and Celegorm attempted to retake the elleth Luthien. However Luthien commanded Beren not to kill Curufin. She showed a great deal of mercy on him that unfortunately he did not use years later when he and Celegorm attacked her son and family for the Silmaril.

Curufin died at the attack as did Celegorm and his story is not often told for the lack of information that we have of him. But Tolkien informs me that the greatest work that Curufin ever did was not the power that he leant to the making of the Silmarils but the life and skill that he gave to his son.

Perhaps it may be said that Curufin never made anything remarkable, but the son that bore his father's face and skill received the fire, but the temperance was the greater in his heart. The good of Celebrimbor is remembered, for without the Elvish rings surely the world was have fallen to Sauron before anything could have been done about it. And for this we thank him.


	7. Strawberry's the best

**AnnaMariah : **I know that he was like his father but even children that take after their parents strongly have still have differences.

**Arthien1188** : I know that there are typos and I am just really lazy about getting around to them. I did fix the whole "red hairs" thing, it was a terrible typo that was supposed to be "two red heads"

Disliking slash is personal opinion and just because it is written completely correct makes it no more palatable to me. I sincerely doubt ( and this is only my opinion) that Tolkien would have been glad to see perfectly written slash of any kind. I must say that I have never review or flamed any slash of any kind no matter how masterfully it has been executed.

Execute….hummm seems like a good choice of words. I was not naming people who do, simply saying that I really dislike it. If you have a problem with free speech fine but see that you don't accuse people of judgment before you even read what I said about the topic.

Other then that thank you for the constructive advise and I hope that will find that my work improves with time.

**Dawn Felagund**I know I am the worst proofreader in the world, but it's hard to see anything other then what you expects to see. And as the twins were thought of as a unit maybe Feanor or Curufinwe was the same with the son that bore his name?

Hey and go you for knowing all that stuff, wish I did.

**Elfique** : Heheheheheh! Your great, hope you like this one as well!

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As I wander the vast and silent halls of my home I can still hear the shadows of the past. Little whisperings of those who once called this shell a home. The music room holds remnants of Maglor and his music, the stables the teasing joyful sound of the twins. The forge keep the silences of Caranthir and Curufin. The gallery jealously guards the ringing echoes of Celegorm's voice practicing a speech.

But everywhere in the house, in the air that I breath is the sound of Maedhros's laugh. The big rolling bass of his laugh fills every corner, and joining it is the lighter echo that could only be Fingon's voice. Amazing that even in now in the memories that haunt me, they are together.

Just as well…

Maedhros needed someone to be close too. Oh, certainly he loved his father and he knew that he had my love, but a child needs a friend to do silly things with. He wanted a companion to go swimming with or pull pranks with, Maedhros was ever the one for pranks.

"Nana come and look!" he called one day. I hurried over to the balcony and looked where he pointed. There riding up the road was a boy with long black hair braided in a cunning fashion with gold.

"Nana, it's a boy come to play with me! He's just my size!" exclaimed my son happily. This wasn't exactly true because even though he was only ten at the time Maedhros was already a head and shoulders height over all the other children his age in Aman.

"Well, you had better go and catch him before he rides away ad you haven't had the chance to make his acquaintance." I encouraged. Off my boy ran and I watched from the balcony as they met the sound of their voices wafting up to me.

"I bet I'm stronger then you!" Maedhros challenged.

"Bet you not, you're just a big stringy bean!" retorted the black haired spitfire.

"I'd rather be a string bean then a sissy with gold in my hair like a girl!" countered Maedhros. I was about to intercede when the black haired boy took a flying leap from his horse and tackled my son. In a tangle of arms, legs and long hair they wrestled and fought in the road.

"Nerdanel, what on earth is going on?" I found Feanor at my elbow his eyes fastened on the to boys. "Is that Fingolfin's son?"

"I think so they were supposed to be making friends and this is what happened instead." And we both laughed quietly as we watched the boys continue their fight. For all Maedhros's superior height and weight he ended up on he back with his right arm twisted behind him as Fingon sat on his back.

"See! I am stronger and if you ever make fun of my braids again I'll come after you!" he said. Then instead of continuing to lord it over he stood up and offered his hand to my son.

"Well, that was…noble." said Feanor as if he was surprised. "Invite him to stay for dinner."

I went to meet the boys as they came in "Oh, Nana this is Fingon, Uncle Fingolfin's biggest boy and he's ever so strong! We've decided to become best friends!"

_We've decided to become best friends!_

You might have said, "We've decided to become totally inseparable for the rest of our lives." because that is more what happened. Two different people but thinking always with the same mind, you agreed on almost everything.

"I think that chocolate is the best flavor." Maedhros would say.

"Rather." was Fingon's reply.

And the next day it would be, "You know maybe strawberry is better, it has fruit in it."

"Oh just." was the obliging answer.

How many times did Feanor get soaked with a cold bucket of water when he went into his forge? How many times did Aredhel and Artanis get their pigtails dipped into ink? How many times did you short sheet the blankets on Turgon, Maglor, Celegorm and Aredhel? And how many wrestling matches ended with Fingon proving he was still the stronger of the two? Too many to count and each happening lives in my mind as clearly as the day they occurred. Your birth was the same way.

The day of your birth was the worst day I had ever known, never had I experienced pain. Maids and aunts saying that it was natural for the first birth to be difficult did nothing to calm either me or Feanor. He paced the halls and smashed things into being in the forge as I labored.

They say that the pain of labor is forgotten the first time a mother sees her child. It is true, when they laid you in my arms I forgot any pain only the sight of your little pink face and bright red hair. You Atar was speechless as he held you, I had not seen him so filled with wonder as when he first hold you.

"Maedhros, you look just as I dreamt." he whispered. And he wept

You went to protect your brothers and to be with your friend. You went because the blood of relationship burned within you and that love for your father would never be denied. The anger at Finwe's brutal death festered in your heart and you thirsted for justice. United in this rage you and all your family left and I said goodbye to my brilliant boy.

"Mother, please understand I must go." he said.

"But it is rebellion to do it! My son if you don't go the others may follow your example, consider what your doing." I begged.

"I have and weighted it against that shame I would feel if I didn't go." he answered. And he left with all the others taking my last hope with him, and yet I do not blame him. I never can blame him it was always his path to go against the tide and I was not able to stem that force.

_Nerdanel, Wife of Fëanor_

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**Authorial Note : **Well, I suppose you all the know the tragic story of the First Kin slaying and the burning of the ships and abandonment of Fingolfin and his people. Also the tale of their survival on the grinding ice and triumph appearance in Middle Earth. The binding friendship that had lasting even this test of love remained and after his imprisonment on Thangorodrim Maedhros was rescued by Fingon. In the process it was necessary to amputate his right hand.

Maedhros gave his birth right as first born and the kingship to Fingolfin in thanks for his life. He ruled Himring a mountain stronghold and aided Fingon all his life. Fingon was killed during the fifth battle the "Battle of Unnumbered Tears."

Maedhros and Maglor raised Elrond and Elros after the attack against their parents. However the pain of the evil deeds they had committed haunted him and he finally cast himself and the second Silmaril into a fiery chasm. Somehow it seems appropriate.

_The Mysterious_

_Jaffee Leeds_


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